


Fic February - 26

by stubliminalmessaging



Series: Fic!February 2014 - Gallavich Style [26]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Fic!February, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-26
Updated: 2014-02-26
Packaged: 2018-01-13 21:02:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1240708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stubliminalmessaging/pseuds/stubliminalmessaging
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Day twenty-six of fic February. It's Ian's birthday and he is infatuated with tequila, even though Mickey could have sworn he was infatuated with him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fic February - 26

**Author's Note:**

> i affectionately call this one 'mequila.' unbeta'd so all mistakes are mine weh

                Mickey lit a smoke as he waited for Ian to come back. He’d pushed Mickey into an empty bedroom at his friend’s place and said ‘wait here while I go get something, I’ll be back in a second’ before he’d shut the door in Mickey’s face and presumably took off. He eyed the smoke detector on the ceiling by the door, then crossed the room and opened the window, leaning on the sill and blowing his smoke out through the screen.

 

                He heard the door open again and looked over his shoulder to see Ian shutting the door behind him. He crossed the room, practically skipping with the impressive amount of liquor he’d already consumed. He set the items he’d brought with him on a table and then plastered himself against Mickey’s back, running his hands all over his front.

 

                “You’re pretty fuckin’ wasted, aren’t ya?” Mickey laughed, blowing his smoke out the window.

 

                “It’s my birthday,” Ian insisted, only slurring a little. “I can be as drunk as I want.”

 

                “Yeah, whatever you want,” Mickey chuckled. “I ain’t gonna take it away from you.”

 

                Ian slid his hand up and gripped Mickey’s bicep, pulling him away from the window. He pulled Mickey over to the table where he had left the booze and snatched up the bottle, gesturing to Mickey with it. “Want some?”

 

                Mickey placed his fingers over Ian’s on the neck of the bottle and tilted it so he could read the label. His nose scrunched a little. “Tequila? That’s some girly shit, Gallagher.”

 

                “No, it’s not. It’s the best,” Ian unscrewed the lid and went to take a swig but Mickey squeezed his fingers over Ian’s and he seemed to forget the tequila in favour of the almost-handholding they were doing. He looked at Mickey as if he’d find the answer to the universe’s questions in his eyes, as if he was going to say something heartfelt and meaningful, and said; “It’s my favourite.”

 

                “I thought I was your favourite,” Mickey said, a little buzzed himself and subtly trying to make Ian happy.

 

                “You are,” Ian said and he got that look again, determined to tell Mickey what he was going to tell him and dead serious about it. “I like touching you and kissing you and fucking you and I like your cock and your ass and your shoulders and your …arms,” Ian let go of the bottle and let Mickey take it, then stroked his hand up to rest of Mickey’s bicep with a degree of quiet awe. Mickey might have flexed a little as Ian stroked over his muscles. He took a mouthful out of the bottle as something to do other than stare at Ian as he drunkenly appreciated him and cringed right away.

 

                “You sure this ain’t fuckin’ paint thinner?” Mickey coughed and Ian smirked, smug. He took the bottle from Mickey.

 

                “You’re doing it wrong,” he said, setting the bottle down and pulling Mickey in closer. He sucked on a pair of his fingers and used the saliva to draw a wet stripe down the side of his neck. Then he retrieved a salt shaker from the table that Mickey hadn’t even noticed he’d brought with him, and shook it at his neck. Most of it went down or on Ian’s shirt, but enough of it stuck to the spit on his neck. Ian’s smirked was positively devilish as he held up the lime slice he’d taken from the bowl of them he’d had on the table. “First you lick the salt off my neck, then you drink, then I’ll feed you the lime.”

 

                Mickey had stopped paying attention after the part about licking something off Ian’s neck, but he imagined he could probably figure the rest out on his own. He yanked Ian down by the front of his shirt and sloppily lapped all the salt off him, enjoying the taste of him and the low groan he let out. He worked an impressive hickey into the skin under Ian’s ear and then pulled back and went for the bottle.

 

                He took a deep draught and then accepted the lime slice that Ian was pushing at his mouth. He bit down and sucked on the lime, and the way the juice ran down his chin reminded him of the time they’d shotgunned beer at the baseball diamond the first time he’d gotten out of juvie. He didn’t know why he was thinking of that specifically now, but that night had been the highlight of his summer, though he’d never tell anyone that. Especially not Ian.

 

                Ian dropped the lime and Mickey let it fall from his mouth. He was yanked into Ian’s arms and as the redhead kissed him silly, both arms circling around his waist and pulling Mickey against him. They kissed for another moment, wet and open, before Ian pulled back. He leaned against Mickey and nosed at his temple, the gesture so raw and affectionate that Mickey probably would have him had it been any day besides Ian’s birthday.

 

                “ _That_ is my favourite,” Ian said, grinning like an idiot. “My turn. Salt yourself up.”

 

                “Does it have to be my neck?”


End file.
